The Paul who has been quoted several times so far, is the most prolific writer in the Bible’s New Testament. He writes of an experience that profoundly impacted the depth of his own personal life. He, too, faced incredible “storms” in his life, one after another. At one point, he and his partner, Silas, were severely beaten by authorities and thrown into jail, their feet clamped in stocks. Their crime was that they had ruined the business of local fortune tellers by liberating a demon-possessed slave girl who told fortunes for people.
So there were Paul and Silas, bodies badly
bruised and bleeding, feet painfully clamped in leg irons, thrown into a dark,
damp, dirty dungeon. Talk about time for a pity party or despair and
disillusionment or retreat and resignation! The storm is blowing hurricane
forces upon them.
Here is the rest of the story: “Around midnight,
Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the other prisoners
were listening.” (Acts 16:25) Imagine that! What kind of a response to unjust
pain and suffering is that?
That’s the response of people who have true
depth in their lives, whose soil is so cultivated and fertile that no external
or internal forces can keep the seed of true life from growing. Paul and Silas
have obviously paid deep attention to what’s below the surface of their lives.
They’ve learned how to lean on the resources that God alone can provide for
them. And that has empowered them to face the storms of life with confidence
and fearlessness and fruitfulness.
Joan Chittester writes about a time when a great
army invaded a country and created a path of destruction wherever it went. Its
greatest wrath was reserved for the holy people they found, particularly the
monks. When the invaders arrived in one village, the leader of the village
reported to the commander, “All the monks, hearing of your approach, fled to the
mountains.”
The commander smiled a broad, cold smile. He was
proud of having a reputation for being a very fearsome person. But then the
leader added, “All, that is, but one.”
The commander became enraged. He marched to the
monastery and kicked in the gate. There in the courtyard stood the one
remaining monastic. The commander glowered at the figure. “Do you know who I
am?” he roared. “I am he who can run you through with a sword without batting
an eyelash!”
The monastic fixed the commander with a serene
and patient look and replied, “And do you know who I am? I am one who can let
you run me through with a sword without batting an eyelash.” (MacDonald, p. 77)
It is, as one author put it, in the “disruptive
moments” of our lives in which our true depth is revealed. Then we really
discover what we’re made of. We truly see the quality of our lives.
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